


A Fish Out of Water

by mcj



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24596677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcj/pseuds/mcj
Summary: Rotation day and its mayhem on Tracy Island.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	A Fish Out of Water

"Hey, what do you suppose Tin-Tin wants to show Alan … in the bathroom?"

Six months ago when rumour was running rife, I wasn't the only one to smirk at Dad's reaction to my question.

So why now, when Virgil's asking the exact same thing, am I the one who's having the reaction? Could it be I saw enough when I walked in on them in the laboratory? Or maybe its the sheer mention of Alan's bathroom that still conjures up memories of a swamp swarming with some not-so-friendly alligators?

Brains still explains it as a "freak mutation."

Me? I'm still coming to terms with the size of some of those guys.

What started out as a low-key rescue ended up with me holed up in a basement, a gun pointed at my head and three giant alligators waiting outside who weren't about to take no for an answer. Add to that another vial of "freak mutation" and you've pretty well summed up one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

And the terror wasn't only confined to me.

I couldn't believe it when Virgil let it slip about Alan's crazy over the top heroics. Only Alan would blatantly disobey a direct order and use his hover bike as a decoy to try to lure the alligators away from the basement. And only Alan could scare everyone to death by falling off the hover bike with an alligator right behind him.

I wasn't impressed.

Alan doesn't realise just how lucky he was that Gordon lived up to his reputation as International Rescue's crack shot. He realises it now; namely because I blasted it into his brain the whole way back to the base. His stupid little stunt not only almost left him number one on the lunch menu; it put me straight in the firing line with Dad.

And or the record … Dad chewing me out for Alan almost ending up as a main course is not the reason for today's reaction.

That good old line about the bathroom might have reminded me of past history, but I know for a fact that what Virgil's referring to has nothing to do with alligators or International Rescue. If Tin-Tin's about to show Alan what I think she is, it will be the finishing touch to the day we've had around here.

"A fish out of water."

If I hear those words just one more time, I swear I'm going to explode.

O-O-O

I guess an explanation is required explain the reason for my aggravation.

Firstly, in case you haven't guessed it yet, the name is Tracy.

Scott Tracy.

Secondly, when it comes to International Rescue, I'm not in the habit of doing comedy.

I'm the eldest. I'm disciplined and I like a sense of order in my life. I don't always get it. I just like it. The rescue business is unpredictable and I've learned how to deal with that in the months we've been operational. I distance myself when necessary to focus on the job. I achieve the impossible because I have to and because I've learned from the best.

My father.

However, the other side of my life is an entirely different story. Call me old-fashioned if you want but I quite like being predictable. When I'm not working, nothing pleases me more than to enjoy a peaceful existence lying in my hammock underneath the palm trees. That's what life's all about for me these days; saving lives when required and soaking up the good life on the island with my brothers.

It was a peaceful existence amongst the palm trees that I was hoping for when I rolled over and gave the dawn the usual one-eyed acknowledgement. At the time, it looked like I was going to be rewarded. The shadows on the wall were familiar; the sea below was calm and the curtains rustled in and out of the open balcony door. The smell of freshly brewed coffee beckoned from downstairs; an aroma which provided the perfect encouragement to drag myself out of bed and see if life had anything planned for International Rescue.

After my usual morning routine, and a warning from Grandma to stay out of the kitchen, it was time to grab that coffee and head to down to the beach with Virgil. Virgil and I walked there every morning, enjoying each others company as we meandered along the rocky shore. Watching the sun rise and having an off the cuff chat with my brother always left me in a good mood, even today, when I knew the subject of the discussion would be who was to be the co-pilot Thunderbird Three for the monthly rotation of our astronauts.

Another month in International Rescue was coming to an end and it was time for John to return to duty in his beloved Thunderbird Five. He'd been busy all month, both out in the field with us, as well as guest-lecturing in astronomy at his old college; Harvard. It was always great to have John when we went out on rescue. He was a great communicator and his steely determination was invaluable in a tight situation. And believe me, over the last four weeks we'd found ourselves in more than our fair share of them.

But for now, there was no talk of John's impending departure; as Virgil and I walked side by side along the shore.

"Should be an interesting twenty-four hours," Virgil finally commented; his eyes fixed on the horizon. "From what Gordon says, Tin-Tin spent the best part of last night trying to convince Dad Thunderbird Three's computer might need another overhaul."

It was hard to disguise my amusement at the ingenuity of Miss Kyrano and what a co-incidence it seemed to be that Thunderbird Three only developed problems on the twenty-ninth day of the month; every second month; when Alan just happened to be coming home from the satellite.

This time it appeared she was going all out.

A complete overhaul of the computer system would a lengthy business and one that would mean spending hours below ground in a space no bigger than a postage stamp. The perfect place for a little pre-arranged "love fest", especially when they would only be expected to come upstairs for meal breaks and give the mandatory progress reports to Dad.

"And Dad agreed to do it?" I smirked, trying not to laugh.

Virgil stifled his own grin. "Of course he did. When it comes to safety and Three's computer system, he isn't about to say no."

All of a sudden his laughter cut loose and the sound of it echoed against the peaceful silence. "In fact, Dad told her that as soon as the rotation was over, she and Brains needed to get on with it so we weren't out of operation too long."

Now it was my turn to test out the echo with a laugh.

"Brains? I don't think that's quite the guy she had in mind!"

Virgil raised his eyebrows. "You don't say?"

All jokes aside, Dad was right in deciding that the right man for any overhaul had to be our resident engineering genius. But I had to wonder if that was the real reason Dad had gone out of his way to select him. Dad's sixth sense was a like a radar when it came to our two love-birds and short-circuiting their plans for a happy "subterranean reunion" didn't surprise me one little bit. Alan would be expecting uninterrupted time alone with Tin-Tin and Dad being Dad wasn't about to give it to him. Alan was seriously going to lose his shit before he even walked through the door.

Virgil was right. It was going to be an interesting twenty-four hours and there was no way in hell I was going to miss it. I wanted to be there when Dad broke the news to Alan and when Brains figured out he'd just spent five hours in the silo overhauling Thunderbird Three's computer system when there was noting wrong with it. Thinking about the reactions was enough to keep me laughing all the way to the house.

Breakfast on rotation day was a meal made in heaven; with Grandma taking charge and refusing to let anyone help. By anyone; she meant everyone and from the outset, she made it clear to Kyrano that he wasn't to interrupt. Kyrano didn't really mind being banished from his kitchen. He'd learnt a long time ago the best place to be whenever Grandma took control of a spatula was away from the villa, and on a day like today he was happy to head outside rather than push his luck.

This morning he had already made sure he was well out of harm's way; briefly waving to us as we shook the sand off before walking inside the house. Grandma was already in her element and an array of John's favourites had been laid out with love in centre of the table. Lucky for us, the favourites in no way resembled Alan's; whose latest obsession with plant-based foods was enough to make a man feel air-sick the whole way to Thunderbird Five.

John, thank goodness, was a connoisseur of the finer things and he didn't wallow in a sea of self-pity either because he had to return to Thunderbird Five. Alan was pathetic on rotation day, even though we all knew most of the theatrics were designed purely to get the desired attention from Tin-Tin. John wasn't into theatrics any more than he was into feeling sorry for himself. He was happy to count down the hours until the blastoff by enjoying his coffee, chatting to Dad and re-assuring Grandma he would remember to eat.

"You can even weigh me next month, the minute I get back from Five, " he reassured her.

"Don't you worry, John Tracy. I will be," she warned him.

The controversy over John's recent weight loss.

It was the beginning of the end to what had started out as just another peaceful day in paradise.

The moment Grandma took it upon herself to state the obvious; Dad decided it was a prime opportunity to air the concerns he had to John. Why he'd waited thirty days to say something I don't know, especially as he'd never been backward in coming forward before.

"Son, I want you to promise me you'll take proper care of yourself," the prelude to the lecture began. "Proper sleep and regular meals are important for the health of any astronaut. Adequate nourishment in space is one of the first things they teach you in the program."

John listened to Dad, no doubt wondering at what point he should interrupt and remind Dad he was nearly twenty-five years old.

"I know that Sir," he said instead.

After an uncomfortable silence he ended up admitting his weight loss hadn't come as any great surprise. Working on his latest book bad taken it out of him and he'd been too wrapped up in the layout to think about anything else. He promised to pay strict attention to his diet during the month and take things easy when he wasn't monitoring the world for any disaster.

"I'll make sure of it," he said, throwing Grandma one of his charming smiles. "Don't worry."

With that, Dad seemed quite satisfied the problem was only temporary, but Grandma wasn't too sure it would achieve the desired result.

"If you ask me; I think you're headed in exactly the same direction as your father ," she commented, eyes unmoving over the rim of her tea cup. "When he left the farm to join the Air Force he lost so much weight in the first few months and then tried to cover it up by saying he'd been too busy."

Dad looked uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted to do with an impending rotation on his hands was defend himself over something that had happened nearly forty years before.

"Mother," he frowned at her. "I was too busy. I was training every day and the Space Agency still expected me to study and meet the requirements of my Masters."

Uh oh. When Dad took the time to correct Grandma it usually meant he had memories of some monumental life struggle and everyone around the table was about to hear all about it, including anything relevant he had learned. It also meant the verbal tennis match would soon be on, particularly if Grandma didn't leave the subject alone.

Grandma loved Dad, and there was no argument from anyone at how much Dad loved her,. But they were both equally renowned for their stubbornness. They'd exchange one-liners for hours if they didn't agree about something and continue on until one of them took aim and fired an ace right down the centre of the argument. Things still seemed to be pretty amiable but it didn't take much prompting for the to-ing and fro-ing to start off.

"A healthy man's never too busy to eat, Jeff."

15-0.

"Oh, Mother. A man can be perfectly healthy and still have no time to eat."

15 all.

"A man makes the time if he cares about his health. You just said so yourself."

30 -15.

"It was different for me, back then. I was honestly too busy to make time for anything."

30 all.

"Time management was never one of your problems, dear. You just never grasped the concept of preparing food."

40-30.

"I take exception to that, Mother. You know as well as I do I was very capable of taking care of myself."

Deuce.

"No, from memory, the only thing you and your father took care of was what I put in front of you, Jeff."

Advantage Grandma.

"That's not true, Mother!"

And then she served the ace.

"Jeff, I'm sure you haven't forgotten what happened the last time you were left alone in a kitchen."

Game – Set – Match - Grandma.

Dad couldn't look left, right or sideways. Even I was indelibly scarred from the memory of Grandma's fifty-seventh birthday when Dad decided to express his love for her by preparing her a home-cooked breakfast. I may have only been nine, but Dad nearly burning the kitchen down is still one of the more vivid recollections of my childhood. He would have succeeded too, if Grandma hadn't smelt the smoke and come barging out of the shower in a last ditch attempt to find the extinguisher.

I still remember that morning as one of the very few times I laughed in the terrible months just after we lost our Mom. Dad was mortified. Not only did he allow himself to be distracted by his cell phone; Grandma scared the hell out of him with her half-naked dash. She didn't go easy on him either when the fire was finally out. For months afterwards, every time Dad hinted he might cook something, Grandma would say the kitchen was closed "for the fire renovations."

But today, Dad wasn't prepared to dwell on that. Safer to agree with Grandma, smooth over the memory and to change the subject.

"Oaky, you're right," he admitted with a deep-throated chuckle.

Grandma nodded her head, pleased he was finally admitting to it.

"I know I am, son."

Once Dad accepted he had lost the argument, the general conversation around the table returned. John became the centre of Grandma's attention again, Virgil and I continued to debate which one of us would be co-piloting Thunderbird Three and Tin-Tin cornered Dad with a hundred new excuses on why Thunderbird Three suddenly didn't need an overhaul of its computer system.

Dad wasn't letting anyone off the hook after his sparring match with Grandma.

"No," he interrupted Tin-Tin with his usual air of authority. "I think we should go with your original judgment. Even if it isn't necessary, I don't want to take any chances when it comes to the safety of our operations."

Then he turned to me.

"Scott, I want to get the rotation underway as soon as possible. I'd like you to go with John this month. Once Thunderbird Three is back, Brains and Tin-Tin can get to work."

O-O-O

The scheduled blast-off for rotation was usually timed for 10:00 hours but as requested by Dad, John was happy to go upstairs and grab his things. By 0800 he'd said a quick farewell to Dad, Gordon and Virgil, made another solemn promise to Grandma to regain his lost weight and had taken charge of Thunderbird Three ready to set course for the satellite.

"I don't know about you, but I can't find anything wrong." He had already set and re-set Thunderbird Three's computer four times and nothing appeared to be faulty. After two more attempts he shook his head and lifted his eyes from the controls.

"You know what I think?"

"No," I muffled through the International Rescue Uniform I was pulling over my head. But I was interested to find out; considering the rest of us witnessed what was going on, or should I say what they said wasn't going on, almost on a daily basis.

John looked away and jabbed at the controls; almost as if he was debating whether or not he should say anything. When he did, he didn't pull any punches.

"Don't you think it's more than just a little co-incidental that a fault's found in Thunderbird Three every single time its my turn to return to Five from rotation? Last time it was the retros. The time before that was the safety beam. Now it's supposed to be the computer again. I'm sure Tin-Tin's making all this up so she can come down here for a little private canoodling."

"Replacing Three's computer system is a pretty big expense for Tin-Tin to justify if all she wants is a little action with Brains," I warned him.

"Brains? " John rolled his eyes. "You know I mean with Alan. And money aside, Dad isn't going to be too pleased when Brains figures out it was all for nothing."

I grinned at his serious expression. Since when had he started worrying about money?

"I don't think you need to worry too much, Johnny. Somehow I think Dad might already know."

O-O-O

And so the rotation in Thunderbird Five proceeded under the usual protocol. Granted, Alan could have waited at least five minutes before he began to complain about being incarcerated all month and our re-entry into Earth's atmosphere could have been a little smoother. But overall, the change of astronauts went without a hitch and before long Thunderbird Three was back in its silo deep within the earth.

Oh boy. If only the rest of the day had gone as smoothly.

Our return to the lounge was met with a mix of cheer and agitation, with Gordon grinning from ear to ear and Virgil pacing the room in circles.

"What's news?" I asked, before rising to my feet with Alan. "And why the glum face, Virg? Surely it can't be that bad dealing with the thought of the kid coming back to earth."

"Very funny," Alan grumbled, striding towards the dining room and trying not to look like he was in hurry. "One of these days you guys will appreciate me and all the sacrifices I make for this outfit."

"Maybe we will," I called after him. I was still a little annoyed about the rocky re-entry. Alan was a talented astronaut but on rotation day he only had one thing on his mind and all caution disappeared right off Three's radar. I could sympathize that after spending thirty days sleeping with nothing but the constellations and his pillow; all he'd want to do was get back to make up for lost time with Miss Kyrano. What I didn't appreciate was hanging on for grim death while he pulled out all stops to get himself there.

I was actually quite surprised when Virgil chose not to join me in the ribbing. He normally enjoyed teasing Alan. But when I saw Grandma sitting at Dad's desk looking like she was reviewing his paperwork; I soon worked out the reason for his anxiety.

Hours earlier, Grandma had again pushed Dad to his limit; ragging his domestic skills to the point where he hotly denied he wasn't capable and had no hesitation in proving it. Virgil said that one thing had led to another until Dad offered her his desk demanding they swap places for a few hours so she could understand why he didn't have the time to be domestic. He thought Dad only wanted to teach Grandma a lesson but when she'd accepted, he didn't quite know what to say next.

"You'll need to keep a eye on her, Scott." He shot a worried glance in Grandma's direction.

"Meaning I'll have to take over if John patches through a distress call." I tried to communicate under my breath. "We both know she hasn't got a clue."

"I heard that," Grandma said, without looking up. "I might be old but I'm certainly not deaf. And for your information, the only person who hasn't got a clue around here is your father when he's in a kitchen. Unlike him, I'm perfectly able to handle myself in the face of any emergency. "

"She's right," Gordon piped up. "Grandma's had to deal with just about every emergency there is."

I wanted to turn around and point out that Grandma losing her reading glasses or not being able to coordinate the clothes pegs didn't constitute a life threatening emergency; but I'd already seen what happened whenever Dad argued with her and I wasn't willing to risk it. Maybe it wasn't that bad to have her believe she was temporarily in charge of International Rescue. At least she might understand how hard Dad worked to co-ordinate the operation and with Thunderbird Two and the Fire Fly in close proximity to the villa, I was confident we could handle the danger factor of Dad being left in charge of the kitchen. All I hoped is that he didn't mess things up.I didn't think I could handle a repeat of Grandma running through the house half-naked again, especially weighed down with another twenty years of gravity.

"Poor Dad, " Gordon laughed. "He's like a fish out of water in there. I'm not even sure he remembers which way to open the refrigerator."

"Don't be so stupid."

Granted over the years, our father had surrounded himself with as much armor as possible to avoid any contact with domestic activity. Kyrano looked after his diary and cooked his meals; Grandma handled his laundry and whenever he was away on business he only ate in restaurants. But Gordon had crossed the line with the comment about the refrigerator. Gordon could laugh and joke all he liked but I remembered all too well watching Dad searching refrigerator shelves in the middle of the night trying to find a bottle for Alan just after we lost Mom.

"Dad does know how to open the refrigerator," I growled, feeling sorry for how hard it was for Dad during those hard times. "He knows more than you want to give him credit for."

"Yes honey, your father does deserve a little credit," Grandma agreed. "The trouble only starts once he opens it."

I shrugged, secretly hoping that Dad managed to whip up a five star banquet to prove the two of them wrong.

I also hoped; or more like prayed; that the world wasn't going to need International Rescue until he somehow managed to do it.

O-O-O

Now that Grandma was firmly entrenched as head of International Rescue, I decided to leave her to get on with it and fix myself some lunch. Dad could probably use the moral support anyway and it was a good opportunity to reassure him I was in a position to handle things in the event we received a call.

I didn't even make the kitchen before I was nearly ploughed over by an unhappy Alan storming down the hall in the opposite direction. By the look on his face Dad had just informed him that Tin-Tin and Brains were about to be fully occupied replacing Thunderbird Three's computer.

"What's eating you?" I frowned as his whole body barrelled into mine.

"Nothing, " he spat and continued to push past. "It's no skin off my nose if she chooses to spend the rest of the day with Brains."

"Sounds like the news didn't go down too well," I observed to Dad later, taking an extra large bite of my double ham and cheese on rye. I'd been sat at the bench for the best part of half an hour and Dad still hadn't said a thing about Alan or his outburst.

He was no further advanced in his meal preparation, either. There were a lot of ingredients being moved from left to right but I was sorry to say he didn't seem to have a clue what he was actually going to do with them. By the look on his face; Alan blowing up like Mount Vesuvius probably counted for nothing.

"Ahh... he'll cool down," Dad grumbled. "It's this whole thing with your grandmother that I don't like. I don't understand why she thinks me being able to cook something will improve the way we do things around here. All this is doing is making me feel like … like … "

He paused and screwed up his face in frustration. He obviously didn't know what he felt like or if he did he was having second thoughts about who was around before he opened his mouth and said it.

"Like a fish out of water, Sir?" I offered with a grimace; remembering Gordon's words.

"A fish out of water," he groaned, surveying the chaos in front of him. "That just about sums me up. I'm floundering and I know it. What's worse; I know your grandmother knows it too."

Then he looked at me.

"Do me a favour and go and find Kyrano for me, will you? Tell him to make contact on my private wrist communicator."

O-O-O

By this stage, I had to admit things were beginning to get a little tense.

As requested by Dad, I stalked the length and breadth of the house trying to corner Kyrano. When I did, he was a little worried about talking Dad through the culinary process by means of a wrist communicator with Grandma monitoring all communications at his desk.

"Can't you risk it? Kyrano, Dad really does need your help."

Once again I was visualising Grandma and the birthday breakfast.

Alan was still sulking about Tin-Tin and if his ridiculous temper tantrum wasn't enough, it suddenly occurred to me I still had no idea if Thunderbird Three was in any way operational. Tin-Tin and Brains had been down in the silo for over two hours and there hadn't been any updates. What in the blazes were they doing down there?

"I don't want to know what they're doing, " Alan snapped back.

In the meantime, Grandma had finished reading Dad's paperwork and was busy expending her energies trying to spy on Dad.

"No Grandma!" I blurted in a panic as she inched her way towards the door. Catching Dad receiving instructions from Kyrano via his wrist communicator was not going to end well. "You know Dad doesn't like being interrupted when he's working."

Grandma became all huffy and announced point blank that she didn't intend to spy on Dad if that was what I was implying. She was only intending to go into the kitchen to fetch herself some coffee. It wasn't her fault Kyrano wasn't taking care of her like he took care of Dad.

I began to laugh.

Coffee?

"Grandma, how many times have you said to Dad that you can't even abide the stuff?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's enough out of you, Scott Tracy. And where's Kyrano? I haven't seen that man around since breakfast. I hope he realises he isn't allowed to help. "

Much to my relief Kyrano walked in less than ten seconds later, smiling nervously and requesting a word with me in private.

"I believe I have Mr. Tracy on the right track, Mr. Scott. I wish I could say the same for Mr. Alan. He appears most unhappy." He asked me if I knew the cause. Apparently Dad wasn't the only one feeling like a fish out of water. Alan wasn't handling the cancellation of his plans well.

Now I was really starting to get frustrated. First Grandma … then Dad ... and now Alan was upsetting Kyrano as well. The only thing that could make matters worse was an unexpected distress call.

O-O-O

It figured.

When the distress call came in, he must have thought I was crazy when I growled, "Don't even say it, John"

John said it anyway.

A derailed monorail; three carriages dangling off the rails and about to fall into a canyon. No-one dead from what he'd ascertained … but the carriages were full and people were panicking. He had the co-ordinates. We needed to fly.

Grandma sat calmly listening to John's summary. When he was finished, she stood to vacate Dad's chair and motioned for me to take over the desk. International Rescue needed to get itself airborne if we were going to save those lives, she said, and saving lives had nothing to do with Dad's cooking expertise or Alan having to change his plans.

I agreed with her

Saving lives to all of us was a deadly serious business.

The boys assembled in the lounge within two minutes of the distress call and listened intently as I began to bark out instructions. Alan was to go in One, Virgil and Gordon in Two. We needed Brains. All lines of communication were to remain open. Thunderbirds were go.

"Now move it, fellas. We haven't got much time."

"And take it easy in that canyon. I flew through it when I was in the Air Force and it's deadly dangerous."

The voice behind me rumbled with authority.

You guessed it.

It was Dad.

As the lounge emptied he made no attempt to take control of the rescue. He simply perched himself on the corner of the desk like Grandma and watched me study a map of the area.

"Jeff!"

"I told you the terrain was treacherous," he observed as I traced the length of the canyon. "No wonder the monorail was considered a twenty first century masterpiece. How the hell do you think they anchored it?"

"Jeff!"

"This isn't going to be an easy, Scott. I think we need to ask John to pull up a copy of the construction plans. "

"Jeff Tracy!"

"Oh for pete's sake Mother; what now?"

"There's smoke coming from the kitchen again!"

"Smoke? Oh shoot!"

As I watched my father grab the fire extinguisher and run like a madman down the hall, Grandma turned to me with a smile of satisfaction.

"I guess that's your father's new way of saying, carry on Scott."

O-O-O

I suppose you think that this where this all ends and it probably should to make for a good ending to a story. But I am still not sure what Tin-Tin's about to show Alan in the bathroom.

Firstly, let me summarise.

Dad did set fire to the kitchen again, well only a little, but I'm afraid the steaks he was preparing for Alan's welcome home dinner ended up a little charred.

Grandma accepted once and for all that Dad was never meant to be domesticated and in the interests and survival of all it would be better if he never set foot in the kitchen again.

Brains reported that Thunderbird Three's computer did need urgent replacement and we were lucky that Tin-Tin had recommended it. Without her, Thunderbird Three could have been involved in a very serious accident. That completely knocked the hot wind out of Alan's sails.

The rescue went like clockwork and everyone onboard the monorail was saved. As usual, Alan did fly Thunderbird One a little too low and way too fast for my liking. And between you and me; I also enjoyed Dad watching me take command of International Rescue …even if he was burning the house down at the time.

As for the latest developments in the saga of my little brother and Miss Kyrano. …

The two of them are back to normal again, whatever "normal" is supposed to be for those two. I'm still not one hundred per cent sure what she's about to show him in the bathroom but I hope for his sake she can tame his jealous streak. Before he apologised to everyone for his outburst, Kyrano took the time to provide one of his more memorable quotes.

"A wise man should always be content with his lot and not pass judgement over something he should not."

I'd like to think his wisdom was meant for Dad and Grandma but by the way he looked at Alan, the line was definitely meant for the kid.

THE END


End file.
